“Viggo—” Evander protested weakly.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” The words were spoken against his skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. “But I don’t think you want me to stop.”
God help him, he didn’t.
Evander turned in Viggo’s arms, bringing them face-to-face. The Brute’s eyes glittered with lust, his breathing slightly unsteady.
“You’re a menace,” Evander mumbled.
“I prefer ‘determined.’” Viggo’s smile was wicked. “Isn’t that what you told me once?”
Whatever response Evander might have made was lost as Viggo kissed him.
It started softly, almost tenderly. A gentle press of lips that spoke of affection rather than passion. But it didn’t stay that way. Heat built between them with the inevitability of a rising tide. Evander soon found himself pressed against the wall of the box, Viggo’s body a solid weight against his own.
“We shouldn’t,” Evander gasped between kisses. “The third act?—”
“Can wait,” Viggo growled against his throat. “I’ll even buy you another damn ticket if you want to see this opera again.”
“Someone might—” Evander murmured.
“They won’t.” Viggo’s fingers were working at Evander’s clothes with the efficiency of a man who’d done this a hundred times before, loosening buttons and pushing fabric aside. “I checked the sight lines. Twice.”
Evander grabbed his lover’s hands and fixed him with an indignant stare.
“You planned this.”
“From the moment we walked into this box. And I think ‘strategised’ is a better word.”
Evander’s protest died in his throat when Viggo dropped to his knees.
The first touch of Viggo’s mouth on his cock made him see stars. Evander bit down on his fist to muffle the sound that tried to escape. He was intensely aware of the audience just belowthem, the open auditorium beyond the curtains, the thousand ways this could go terribly wrong.
None of it mattered. Not with Viggo’s hands gripping his thighs, not with that clever tongue doing things to him that made rational thought impossible. The distant strains of the orchestra tuning for the next act became mere background noise, drowned out by the thunder of his own heartbeat.
It didn’t take long for Evander to orgasm, to spill himself wantonly in his lover’s mouth.
Viggo knew his body too well. Knew exactly how to take him apart, how to build the pleasure until it crested and broke, leaving Evander shattered and gasping and utterly undone.
He barely had time to recover before Viggo pulled him to the floor.
The Brute divested Evander of his trousers and undergarments, guided him onto his hands and knees, and crowded his back.
Evander looked over his shoulder in time to see Viggo yank the cork out of a small vial of intimate oil with his teeth, his erection rising proudly where he’d freed himself.
Evander bit his lip. “Hurry.”
Viggo shuddered at his wanton tone, his eyes burning brightly as he quickly coated his shaft and his hand. He circled Evander’s entrance teasingly for a torturous moment before pushing a finger inside.
Evander bit the inside of his cheek and stifled a delicious moan.
Viggo took his time stretching him before guiding his cock to his opening.
Then there was pressure and heat and the exquisite sensation of being filled.
Evander braced his hands against the floor and dropped his head, surrendering to the intoxicating wonder that was Viggo making love to him.
Viggo took him slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and controlled. But control was a finite resource. Soon, they were both lost to the primal act, moving together in a rhythm as old as time, muffling the sounds that tumbled from their lips as best they could as their pleasure built toward its inevitable peak.
